


After Hours

by MFLuder



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Episode Related, Episode: s02e12, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, One Degree of Brian Kinney
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 14:11:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14833770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MFLuder/pseuds/MFLuder
Summary: What if Brian hadn't stopped that night in the comic book store?





	After Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted March 17, 2006, on [my DW](https://mf-luder-xf.dreamwidth.org/15723.html).
> 
> Set in the context of season 2, episode 12.
> 
> Honestly, I consider this dubious consent - Michael is mentally torn, but not opposed - rather than rape because of my own characterization of these characters (I don't believe Brian is a rapist at all), but I also understand how this reads and there is some *very* triggering language in it. If that squicks you, and the warning didn't already make you click the back button, back out now.
> 
> Originally betaed by SiberianSkys, Xscribe, and flamencanyc. I did some editing before posting here so all mistakes are mine.

“But are you jealous because I did it with _him_? Or because he did it with _me_?”

“Arrogant prick,” Michael says, shaking his head.

“Well, which is it?” Brian jabs him, demanding.

“Why should I give a shit if he slept with you?” Anger clouds his voice, but Michael can’t bring himself to look at his friend, jealousy and desire creating a toxic mixture in his gut. “Who hasn’t?” he says, trying to be dismissive.

“You.”

Brian waves a hand in front of his face. Michael sighs, crosses his arms.

Michael watches as Brian walks to the door, and flips the OPEN sign to CLOSED. The click of the lock rings out sharply in the silent store, symbolizing something. He isn't sure what.

He follows Brian towards the door, thinking he was leaving, but as he turned around, Michael begins to regret moving closer at all. He puts his hands on his hips, turning his head defensively, and then lets them drop as Brian looks at him.

Brian's posture is predatory, face nonchalant, eyes cold.

He walks forward, and reaches out with the tip of his finger to push Michael back towards the wall, brushing past a stand of comics. Michael can't help the trembles running through him, frightened by the look and afraid he knows what’s coming next. Why couldn't it ever be at a good moment? First he was some pity fuck, and now? Just an obstacle to Brian's good mental health.

Michael fights to control his voice, relieved when it sounds fed up. “What are you doing?” His back hits the wall.

Brian's other hand comes up to grab his shoulder as the finger trails down.

Oh, shit.

The finger skims down his abs as Brian stares down at him, eyes not showing any emotion, even as Michael pleads with his own for him to stop. Not like this, damn it. Why couldn't Brian understand he didn't want just a fuck? His breathing speeds up and after what seems like ages, that oh-so-talented hand grabs his crotch.

The only sound is Brian's leather jacket creaking and a small sniffle.

Brian sways close enough and Michael instantly gets hard, dick pressing into Brian’s hand. 

He looks up as Brian speaks, “You wanna know what it's like?” He leans down, staring right into Michael's eyes, rocking their hips as one, hand palming his erection. “Then come on. You know you want it.”

This wasn't supposed to happen. He _loves_ Ben. But he's loved Brian longer. Not that the prick deserved it. 

His body rocks back.

Brian leans in for a kiss and for a moment Michael refuses to kiss back, letting hard lips meet limp ones. But he can't resist, his body wanting it too much. One of Brian's hands caresses his neck, the other rubbing itself harder on his bulge. Michael finds himself not only kissing back but also his leg creeping up along Brian's of its own volition. God, he was easy when it came to Brian. That had to be what Brian thought of him, back then and now.

He changes tactics, returning the kiss ardently now, hand rising and pulling Brian in closer. He's always enjoyed their kisses: hot, passionate, definitely more-than-friends kisses, but this was different. This was Brian on the prowl. He brings his hand around, grasping Michael's ass and pushing him closer, rocking harder, leather creaking still.

Michael allows himself to place his hand on the other man's chest, feel the muscles he knows lay underneath the thin shirt before, with a lingering pull of tongue and lips, he pushes Brian back. He’s breathing hard, his eyes shut. He wouldn't do it like this. It wasn't worth it. 

At least, that's what his mind thought, while his body begs for more. But he isn't Brian. He won't let his dick overrule his brain.

“Get out of here,” he hears himself say, opening his eyes and staring into Brian's unblinking gaze. What he wouldn't give to know what Brian was thinking.

Brian leans further away from Michael, giving him the once over. He must look like a slut, even: flushed face, panting, and sporting one hell of an erection.

Michael can't do anything beyond stare at Brian, wishing he would vanish. And for a moment, he thinks Brian is getting ready to leave. He steps back from Michael, gaze still focused on Michael’s crotch before flickering up to his face.

“I know your secret identity.”

Of course he does. When hasn't he? Brian hadn't given him the one thing he'd wanted since they were fourteen.

It seems Brian has other ideas than leaving, though. In two seconds, Michael's face is against the fake door in the wall. When a tongue flicks against his ear, he forces himself to calm down.

“I asked you to go, Brian.”

“I know. But you really don't want me to, do you? Your faulty sense of pride does. But not _you_.”

He slides his hand around, rubbing his thumb against Michael's unflagging erection. “See? Your body knows. It knows it's mine. Much as you try to deny it, it'll always know.” A hard bite on his ear forces a whimper to escape, escalating in pitch when Brian begins nuzzling Michael's neck. The slight stubble rasps against his smooth skin and he can't help but angle his head away so his neck would receive more attention. “You're no better than me, Mikey. All your talk of boyfriends and love, and yet you come apart at my touch.”

“Brian...” He’s fighting with himself and rapidly losing as the hand creeps up under his cotton t-shirt.

“Is that a request to stop or to keep going?”

He manages to take a breath in. “Would it stop you if I said no?”

“You aren't about to say no. At least not in a way I'd know meant shit.”

He grunts as Brian begins to thrust behind him, finally feeling an answering erection. “You know...you know you're talking about rape...”

“It's not rape if the victim's willing.”

“Aw, fuck...” Michael trails off. His head is turned, his mouth sucked into a soul-pulling kiss and his arm slides behind the other man's neck. For awhile it’s just gentle thrusts and lips, teeth, wetness, and a smooth tongue gliding along a rougher one—complete domination. His stomach flutters.

But when Brian turns Michael around, lifting off his shirt, he remembers he isn't supposed to be doing this.

“Stop it. Please.”

“Mmmm, I don't think so.”

“You're going to wreck our friendship over this?”

Brian leans in, eyes flickering in the dark and breathing through an open mouth. “I'm not the one wrecking it. You have been. Now I'm giving you what you want. And you'll only have yourself to blame.”

Michael moans as fingers brush over his nipples. Hands glide towards his belt, feeling every inch along the way, his own arms useless at his sides. He can't fight it anymore. He oh-so-badly needs it. Needs to know the feeling, wrong or not. Has to have a taste of what everyone else had. Even his own fucking boyfriend.

As nimble fingers quickly rid him of his belt and open the top button of his jeans, Brian leans in, marking him on his neck.

“Mine,” he whispers and Michael whimpers again.

“I like that. That's a hot sound. You do that for Ben? Everyone? Or is it just for me? See, there are some things I've been wondering about you, too. How willingly you'd come, what you'd sound like, if you'd be as good as even a mediocre fuck.” Brian claims Michael's mouth in another brutal kiss. “How many times I could make you come.”

Then he’s on his knees, mouth level with Michael's dick, pulling pants and underwear down about his ankles and breathing lightly on him. It sends Michael over the brink and he grabs onto Brian's shoulders, his hips thrusting away from the wall even as he says, “Fucker.”

“Yup. Now shut up.”

The cold tone makes him want to run, but Brian seems to anticipate this and grabs his dick just hard enough with one hand that he can't, while the other unbuttons his own pants.

“Let me go.”

“I said,” Brian grunts, “shut up.” He reaches up with both hands, pulling on Michael's hips, which, thanks to the clothes at his feet, sends him tumbling on top of Brian. Using that to his advantage, Brian flips him over, but Michael refuses to get on hands and knees for the bastard.

“Come on. Up. Don't make this harder than it has to be.” Cool fingers find the spot on his hipbones that always made him assume the position and he closes his eyes.

He hears Brian reach for a condom and asks, “Aren't you even going to use lube, asshole?”

“Lubricated condom.”

Fuck.

He hears the rustle of fabric and tenses immediately. Two saliva-wet fingers ram into him without warning.

Michael yelps. Tears of anger, denial, embarrassment and frustration begin to brim in his eyes.

“Damn you, damnyoudamnyoudamnyou...”

But when he feels the blunt wet tip replace fingers against his entrance, he finds himself pushing back, desperate for it. At least Brian is nice enough not to mention how whorish he is acting. No doubt it'll end up as another weapon in the Brian Kinney arsenal. 

“Brian, please...” he hears himself say and even he doesn't know if he’s begging for him to stop or to never to stop.

It doesn't matter though, as Brian doesn't even pause. Michael's nostrils are filled with the scent of leather and sex and Brian, his ears hearing only his own high-pitched panting, the low quiet moans Brian makes and the damn squeak of the leather jacket. He grapples for something, _anything_ , to hold on to, aching to feel Brian, aching to make it something more than a fuck, but finds only the smooth hardwood floor. His knees ache and his heart pounds from the significance of it all but none of it can stop the cry that rips from his throat when Brian shoves himself all the way to the hilt in one thrust.

The tears fall for real now. Brian stops, hands resting lightly on his hips, not moving, leaning down and kissing from his back all the way up to his neck, tenderly, before he pulls out and bites down hard on his next thrust. A low grunt escapes Michael and is echoed.

Brian’s hands trail up his torso possessively, claiming every inch, flicking his nipples, pinching and caressing. They glide back down, teasing but not touching his engorged dick as they settle on his thighs, tickling, not giving any reprieve.

Brian finally lets go of his neck and pulls away from his sweaty back, bracing his knees further outside Michael's legs. The pace and angle change and he let out a guttural moan as Brian's cock pounds in hard, raking over his prostate on each thrust. He loses himself in the sound of flesh hitting flesh and the feel of those soft fingers moving slowly towards his dick. He pushes back; unable to help himself, needing to be completely filled by him, his best friend, the man he's loved for years to no avail. If this was all he was ever going to get he might as well enjoy it—there was no going back now. And he can't call it rape, not after his own actions.

“Come on, give it all to me,” Brian whispers, voice deep, almost sounding like he cares.

Michael reaches back around, fumbling for Brian's waist and once he grabs on, feeling the slick skin slip underneath his fingers, he pulls him closer, at the same time pushing his ass back as far onto Brian's dick as possible.

“God, Mikey. So hot, so tight, so willing...”

“Fuck. Fuck you.”

It doesn't stop. Soon he feels the telltale sign of his balls tightening but still, Brian refuses to touch him where he needs it most. Giving in, he supports himself on one hand and uses the other to touch his sensitized dick. He feels his toes curling, body tensing, and with only three pulls he’s spurting all over his clean store floor and falling forward, resting his face on his arms. Brian pumps a few more times before he too crashes over the edge, falling onto Michael. For a few breaths, Michael can imagine that this is what it would always feel like: the weight of Brian, their combined scent, and the pleasant aftershocks.

It hadn't been perfect sex, but because it was Brian, it was perfect. He can't hate him. He could never hate him.

Brian pushes off of him and Michael whimpers as he slips out, leaving him feeling empty and used and unwanted. Even as he listens to the sounds of a condom being thrown in the trash, and pants being buckled, he doesn't move, ass still in the air, struggling not to fling himself at Brian and beg his forgiveness or burst out in racking sobs.

He hears footsteps coming closer until Brian crouches down by his head, a tender look in his eyes for the first time since he'd walked into the shop that night.

“Clean yourself up. Go home. Be with Ben.” 

He watches as those elegant fingers approach his cheek and wipe a tear Michael hadn't noticed falling. Then the eyes turned cold and Brian stands again, walking towards the door.

He pauses and out of the corner of his eye, Michael sees him turn back, mouth set in a straight line. “That's what it feels like, Michael. Now you know.” He unlocks the door and slips out into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow and chat with me [on tumblr](http://mf-luder-xf.tumblr.com)!


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